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"A DOSE OF HELL" 

WITH PREFACE AND THE 
CASE FOR EQUALITY 



By 

MARY IVES TODD 



We have a planet to act upon, a sense of the drama. 
We will not squat and argue, nor balk, and try to 
justify God. But we will make with high hearts of 
abandon our entrance and our exit before the con- 
gregation of the stars. _maX EASTMAN 



Published by Its Unafraid Author 

MARY IVES TODD 
271 West f4Ist St.. New York City 

Price 40 Cents 
Usual Rates to Dealers 






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Q)CI.D 42728 



THPSt-QQ6835 



DEC 20 1915 



Inscribed to a mother and daughter who practice 
toward each other the exquisite art of friendship. 
1 mean Mrs. Alice Moore McComus and her 
daughter, Carroll. M. I. T. 



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CENTRAL PARK. SHAKESPEARE'S STATUE 
America means to have her own great dramatists. She is preparing the 



PREFACE 

The imbecility of men is always inviting the impudence 
of power. — Emerson. 

In course of preparation is the third and last of my 
Madonna Books. 

The first volume closed with the ethical marriage of its 
hero and heroine. The second followed the fortunes of 
the twain and family, for "seven sacred years/* when 
the hero — to use Biblical language — "was led up of the 
spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil." 
Volume III will recount how the heroine assists the hero 
to secure his freedom from bondage, and describe their 
joyful return to the city of their hearts, New York, 
rapidly rising skyward and destined to become the mag- 
nificent metropolis of the New World. Aye ! The City 
of the Gods ! 

Why have I felt it a duty to call attention to the fact 
that the Romish System is a representative of the fabled 
Satan rather than of the gentle, feminine, poverty-bred 
Jesus? Chiefly because the Fathers of Roman Catholi- 
cism succumbed to the genesis temptation and became 
jealous of the woman when they, too, proceeded to treat 
her as an underling, unfit for equality. Other Satanic 
earmarks of the Romish System are its insatiable greed 
and unholy love of power. World-rule is its aim. In- 
fallibility its pretext. Superstition its cornerstone. The 
imbecility of men in the past has, in Europe, invited the 
impudence of its power. The imbecility of men may, 
possibly, in the future invite the impudence of its power 
in the Home of Liberty. 



6 Preface 

Surely it is time the mother-sex began seriously to 
"bruise the heel" of the various religions which have 
beguiled and degraded woman. Herbert Spencer admits: 
"In the history of humanity as written, the saddest part 
concerns the treatment of women; and had we before us 
its unwritten history we should find this part still sadder. 
I say the saddest part because, though there have been 
things more conspicuously dreadful — cannibalism, the 
torturings of prisoners, the sacrificings of victims to 
ghosts and gods — these have been but occasional ; whereas 
the brutal treatment of women has been universal and 
constant." 

True, in comparison with Mahomet, the makers of the 
Romish religion were Christian gentlemen. To show how 
imbecile are many men and how impudent at least one 
man could be let us glance backward at Mahomedanism 
with the eyes of J. P. Nesbit: "Throughout a quarter of 
the population of the globe the effect of the religion of 
Mahomet has been to prevent the growth of all we know 
by the name of home-life, to destroy the germ of all art, 
all poetry, all romance, nay, all literature beyond the most 
primitive." Alas, so exceedingly jealous by nature was 
this religious fanatic that to polygamy he added the per- 
nicious institution of the veil. Mr. Nesbit thinks, "It is 
strange to reflect how greatly the world has suffered from 
the caprices, the fears, and the fancies of one selfish old 
man." While Prof. Hurgonje says, very frankly, "Islam 
will never make true progress until she unfetters her 
women, whom she keeps as children." Nevertheless, 
while the fate of the veiled and fettered Mohammedan 
woman is sad, sadder still, if possible, is that of her off- 
spring, "the vast majority of whom are stunted in mind 
and body as a result of the ignorance, superstitious prac- 
tices, early marriages, and licensed immorality, incident 
to their religion. Infant mortality is enormous, due 
largely to the prevalence of sex diseases." 



Preface 7 

Likewise is it not strange to reflect how certain views of 
another old man, differently constituted, has affected the 
world. I mean St. Paul. This saint — with "a thorn in the 
flesh" — experienced no inconvenience in living a chaste 
life, without a wife. Which fact caused him to exultingly 
exclaim, "I would that all men were even as I myself . . . 
But if they cannot contain let them marry : for it is better 
to marry than to burn." Impossible to estimate the multi- 
tudes of men and women who, trying to imitate this as- 
cetic, afflicted with an incurable disease, have immured 
themselves in prison-like monasteries and nunneries; or 
how many homes and lives wrecked! Much dwelling on 
the Cross with its bleeding Victim is of itself a prolific 
cause of disease and abnormality. For the upbuilding of 
a normal and healthy humanity Dr. Eliot is a safer guide 
than sickly St. Paul, when he affirms: "The domestic af- 
fections are the chief sources of happiness, the chief 
springs of action and the chief safeguards from evil." 

Furthermore, if we believe that evolution is but another 
word for life, it is our duty to become — in so far as 
we are able — wise and loving co-workers with "Creative 
Evolution" in the development of life and the control of 
matter. Enforced sterility, whether of mind or body, or 
both, cannot be a Godlike practice. 

Nevertheless, to Medievalism we owe at least one 
magnificently dramatic and thrillingly picturesque great 
poem — Dante's Inferno. But, again, who can compute the 
cumulative, inward torture borne by millions of human 
beings ere it voiced itself in such a terrific poem of fire 
and woe ! 

My first play, "A Dose of Hell," was written in the 
hope to give a comedy aspect to what in early life proved 
to be so tragic a nightmare, the everlasting hell-fire des- 
tiny, supposed to overtake the great majority of human 
beings. Indeed, St. Matthew assures us "many are called 
but few are chosen." 



8 Preface 

In closing this preface I will call attention to a few 
more remarks, extracted from Mr. Nesbit's treatise, en- 
titled, "Marriage and Heredity" : "It is clear from our 
examination of the principles of heredity that the society 
in which the female sex is systematically downtrodden or 
enslaved pursues a suicidal course, and that the secret of 
human progress lies in the freest recognition of the rights 
of individual women. If there is one lesson more forcibly 
taught by heredity than another, it is that the interests 
of the sexes are absolutely solidaire. Treated as serfs, 
denied education and the right of choosing a consort, 
women exact a terrible penalty from the ensuing genera- 
tions." 




u 

H 
W 



A DOSE OF HELL 

CAST OF CHARACTERS 

JACK HILL ("A Good Fellow"). 

HORACE YORK (Dubbed by Intimates, "New York 
Hymn"). 

PAUL GILLETTE ("Woman-Hater"). 

CHARLES DESLYS ("American Beau Brummel"). 

DR. JOHNSON— Who Plays Two Roles. 

DR. MURRY— Who Also Plays Two Roles. 

WALT WELLER (Chauffeur). 

LUCY LOVELACE. 

MRS. LOVELACE. 

MAID, BUTLER, WAITER, ATTENDANTS. 

A GROUP OF SMALL DEMONS (Noted for Freak 
Dancing, Freak Music and Dangerous Deviltry). 

SYNOPSIS 

ACT I — Mrs. Lovelace's Apartment, New York. 
ACT II— Horace York's Library. 

ACT III — Horace York's Library, Super-heated and 
Presenting the Appearance of a Fiery, Dantesque Inferno. 



ACT I 

Mrs. Lovelace's drawing-room, executed in Louis XVI 
style and embellished with the swan's neck motive. The 
room, is illumined in a manner to heighten the delicate, 
harmonious tones of hangings and to show to the best ad- 
vantage inherited heirlooms and paintings, all of which 
seemed to charge the atmosphere with romance. Here 
flirtation has been practised as a fine art by "Sweet Lucy" 
and serious love-making kept sedulously in the background. 
For two reasons: strenuous times have caused men to lose 
the art of proposing in an artistic manner; and Lucy was 
not ready to play the role of wife. She agreed with Ber- 
nard Shaw — that marriage is all very well; but it isn't 
romance. Mrs. Lovelace and her daughter are occupying 
a cosy corner. The latter languishes gracefully on a 
settee. She has observed Lent, rigorously, and is pale 
and appealing in her appearance. The mother is engaged 
in mending one of her daughter's silk stockings. 

Mrs. Lovelace. My sweet Lucy, is it not about time 
you chose a husband ? By making this suggestion I do not 
wish to insinuate that your elusive beauty is waning, or 
your subtle charm diminishing. But — procrastinating 
belles, not infrequently, are reduced to Hobson's choice. 

Lucy (bends over and tenderly kisses her mother's 
hand). Always anxious about me, now that dear father 
is gone. What would have become of us without your 
common sense ! 

Mrs. Lovelace. Your father, a gentleman and a scholar, 
was hopelessly out-of-date in these commercial times. 
That we are living on Easy Street is due to my own 
financial foresight. 

10 



Act I A Dose of Hell 11 

Lucy. Alas ! Alas ! I take after poor, dear Pop and 
have no head for business. I suppose it is only a question 
of time when I must try to make up my mind to marry a 
strenuous worshipper of the Golden Calf. 

Mrs. Lovelace (with decision). We have not enough 
money to pay the debts of either of the noblemen who are 
so romantically seeking your hand in marriage. This does 
not grieve me, because it is too often the case that when 
one of these Old World aristocrats wants romance after 
his wedding-day he seeks it with a charming little Vaude- 
ville or Gaiety girl, whose scented missives reach him at 
his club. 

Lucy (presses handkerchief to her eyes). I see! I 
see ! I must wed a Golden Calf-man. (Again ^'Szveet 
Lucy" presses her handkerchief to her tear-filled eyes, 
and softly sobs.) 

Mrs. Lovelace. My pet ! My sweetheart ! ( Very 
tenderly.) Pray, who has been guilty of giving you the 
painful impression that marriage with an American busi- 
ness man necessarily excludes romance? 

Lucy (stops sobbing to explain). At the Sappho 
Club — in the smoking-room — a group of wretched women 
were having a heart-to-heart talk. Then and there, I de- 
cided never to marry — if I could help it. 

Mrs. Lovelace. What about these new Sappho poet- 
esses? Are their fortunes stormy and their love experi- 
ences tragic like those of the famous "Tenth Muse"? 

Lucy. I don't know much about the "Tenth Muse" but 
these American Sapphos certainly have their share of 
troubles. 

Mrs. Lovelace. Relate some of them. I am curious 
to learn what the New Woman is up against. 

Lucy. Mrs. Plato explained in a very pathetic manner 
why she is suing for a divorce. She desires to regain the 
beautiful friendship of Gordon, which she lost when she 
married him. 



12 A Dose of Hell Act I 

Mrs. Lovelace. In my day married women felt mighty 
bad when wedded bliss gave place to monotonous friend- 
ship. She takes the cake — for imbecility. 

Lucy. We all sympathized with Mrs. Smythe. She 
graphically described her husband as a charming Dr. 
Jekyll away from home but a perfect Hyde beast in pri- 
vacy. She is worn to a shadow. 

Mrs. Lovelace. A Tenth Muse could not handle such 
a creature. But a woman with a little common sense 
would begin at once to peel the Hyde off her husband. 

Lucy. One of the newly-weds wept bitterly as she re- 
lated how herself and husband are already in the cold- 
storage department of matrimony. 

Mrs. Lovelace (satirically). Did you ever hear the 
like? A Sappho in cold storage? Why, the imprisoned 
passion of the Greek poetess set the world aflame ! Of her 
nine books of poems only a few fragments have escaped 
destruction — but ! they set our hearts tingling to-day ! 

Lucy. Ah, mother mine ! You know how inseparable 
we have always been. How bound up in each other. 
Obliged to part our hearts would break. (Mother and 
daughter rise in unison, throw their arms about one an- 
other and kiss each other tenderly. Then resume their 
former places.) 

Lucy. Imagine the anguish, now, of a mother robbed 
of all her children ! 

Mrs. Lovelace (zuith passion). Who could do so das- 
tardly a deed? What woman in these days of race-suicide 
has served double time on the bloody cross of motherhood? 
Pray, tell ! 

Lucy. One of the Sappho women. We wept our eyes 
out when she narrated her agonizing experience. She said 
if she had it to do over again she would never marry the 
best man living. Had she not married this child-robber 
the children would be absolutely her own. 



Act I A Dose of Hell 13 

Mrs. Lovelace. Sometimes when Mother Earth has 
use for a poet she well nigh drowns the Chosen One in a 
sea of troubles; well nigh starves him by withholding 
bread; well nigh crushes his heart by fake love; well nigh 
tempts him to serve the devil. Possibly this woman of 
many sorrows will prove to be a well-beloved disciple of 
the Greek Sappho. 

Lucy (scornfully). Who has any use for great poetry 
to-day? The Sappho women are convinced that the aver- 
age American man is unresponsive to the higher life. 
That, in truth, he is completely commercialized. 

Mrs. Lovelace. The fact of the business is — he is a 
slave. The times are too strenuous. Multitudes are faint- 
ing by the wayside. Each night sees the man of toil 
drained dry. He stumbles home. Eats what he must. 
Sinks into uneasy slumber. This stultifying process is 
repeated until he is supplanted by a fresher victim. We 
are still manacled by a man-made civilization. (Perfect 
stillness reigns for a few moments.) 

Lucy. Oh, mother dear ! How can I make up my mind 
to wed a man who is but a dollar mark; with all his ten- 
derness lost in business. ( With a gesture of despair Lucy 
leaves her sofa and paces up and down the drawing-room. 
Her mother watches her for a little time in silence; then 
joins her, placing an arm affectionately about her waist. 
Together they make a couple of turns.) 

Mrs. Lovelace (firmly). This won't do. You are 
weak, my Lucy, with Lenten fasting. Lie down again. 
(Lucy obeys her mother. Both resume their former 
places.) 

Mrs. Lovelace (suddenly). Why not marry Jack? He 
is a good fellow — and so persistent that he will never take 
**no" for an answer. 

Lucy (despairingly). Y-es — a dangerously good fellow. 



14 A Dose of Hell Act I 

Mrs. Lovelace. As to that, all men are dangerous, one 
way or another. He has, however, a good heart. An 
asset not to be despised in this heartless, get-rich-quick 
age. He adores you and will give you children who will 
be a comfort in your old age. 

Lucy. Alack and alas ! I fear he will make a tragic 
muddle of his life. How he does love the world, the flesh 
and the ''dear devil" — as he calls him after Emerson. 

Mrs. Lovelace. Oh, yes. Jack likes the good things of 
life but he loves you. He would die for you and esteem 
it a privilege. He is a bona fide American man whose 
bearing towards our sex represents the highest type of 
chivalry the world has seen. 

Lucy. Ah, but you should hear the two noblemen pro- 
test how eagerly they would die for me — did the need 
arise. They are so romantic and use such poetic language. 

Mrs. Lovelace. Jack is different. He really would 
give his two twinkling eyes to save yours. Still, granted, 
that Jack does occasionally overdo the good-fellow role, 
his handicap to high achievement is not nearly so great as 
your own. 

Lucy (alarmed). What do you mean? 

Mrs. Lovelace (with reluctance). It has been impos- 
sible, of late, to close my eyes to the fact that the older 
you grow the more you are obsessed by a Hamlet-sort of 
indecision. You brood deeply and fast and pray, but to 
wed decision to deed you cannot now accomplish. So it 
seems you should stop flirting at once. 

Lucy. And marry Jack? 

Mrs. Lovelace. That depends. Do you truly love him ? 

Lucy. I am not — sure. I can't bear to give him up — 
quite. 

Mrs. Lovelace. I think you love him. If so, make up 
your mind to marry him and then abide by your decision, 
like a soldier. 

Maid (knocking timidly at the door). 



Act I A Dose of Hell 15 

Lucy. Come in ! (Enter maid with card on silver 
plate. Lucy reads card.) 

Lucy (to maid). Tell Jack to come right in. (Exit 
maid. Jack promptly appears. He greets mother and 
daughter effusively.) 

Jack. By Jove ! This Lenten business is causing our 
Lucy to look so poetical and romantic that I feel more 
like a beast than ever. Why, there is a halo surrounding 
her head. (Gases fondly into her eyes.) 

Mrs. Lovelace (with ill-concealed admiration). It is 
plain you have not been missing any meals. You look as 
hearty and robust as an athlete. 

Jack. I must confess I'm not missing any meals; as 

for praying (Deprecatingly.) You know, Lucy, 

that the Great Teacher did not approve of long prayers. 
Mine are short. (With still greater deprecation.) When 
I retire at night I never fail to repeat the little prayer 
my mother in heaven taught me as soon as I could talk. 

Mrs. Lovelace (wiping her eyes). Here Jack, take my 
seat right by our Lucy. I must hurry away. (Exit Mrs. 
Lovelace. ) 

Jack (seats himself in the mother's rocker, close to 
Lucy). I'm a perfect rotter, y'know. I can't help loving 
you. You are so lovely. I must strike you as a perfect 
fool — and I am a fool ! But (very humbly) since you do 
not seem to mind having me around will you not be so 
good as to tell me just why you refuse to speak so tiny a 
word as **y^s"? Do you fear that if you marry me life 
will be a bore? 

Lucy. .From what I hear marriage is the death of 
romantic love. (Lucy clasps her hands together.) Ah, 
me ! I do so love romance and heroes ! 

Jack. I suppose there is no way to f .olve a hero out 
of such a rotter as I. 

Lucy (reluctantly) . I can't think of any. 



16 A Dose of Hell Act I 

Jack (meditatively) . I might sell what I have and give 
to the poor. But nobody nowadays likes charity. A man 
with a shred of self-respect hates it. (Awkward pause.) 
(Jack suddenly and vigorously slaps his knee.) Eureka! 
Eureka ! I have it ! I have it ! (Lucy sits up very 
straight. Her eyes beam.) 

Lucy. Really, Jack, have you thought out how to be a 
hero? 

Jack. I have thought out how to begin ; that is to fast, 
like the Biblical heroes. I read to-day that the anaemic 
workers in the May Day parade exhibited a rare kind of 
dignity because the beastly ugliness of over-nourishment 
was absent. Now my mother in heaven — before she went 
away where I could not follow her — used to read me a 
lot about Biblical heroes and to please her I memorized 
hundreds of verses. 

Lucy. I suppose mothers really do mold the rising 
generation. 

Jack. And religion, mothers, you bet ! I do not know 
whether my mother ever actually succeeded in fasting 
forty days at one time. I only recall that her face used to 
shine and when she went away for good it was quite lumi- 
nous with a sort of light that seemed to fill the room. I 
wished so much to give my mother joy that I, too, tried 
to fast. But I was such a little rotter that after the loss 
of a few meals I began to eat again like a pig. My face 
never shone, except superficially, after a bath of soap and 
water. I fancy I have more will-power now. 

Lucy. I do not believe that ordinary people ought to 
fast forty days. One who has aimed to do so told me that 
he lost fifteen pounds in less than a week. 

Jack. Fifteen pounds is nothing! From an up-to-date 
work on the fasting cure it appears that starvation only 
begins when the body has been reduced to the skeleton 
and the viscera. 



Act I A Dose of Hell 17 

Lucy (springing off the settee and clasping Jack about 
the neck). Promise me that you will not fast until you 
are a skeleton ! I could not bear to see you a skeleton ! 

Jack. Not if my face shone? 

Lucy. But you might go away like your mother. 
{Kisses Jack tenderly. Jack, overjoyed, gives her a big 
hug and a big smack.) 

Jack {jubilantly). I shall never feel more like a hero 
than I do this blessed moment ! Glory ! Lucy loves me ! 
Will you not speak that little word before I begin a pro- 
longed fast? {Holds her fast and gazes intently into her 
eyes. ) 

Lucy. I will speak it gladly if you will promise me not 
to fast more than half the Biblical number of days, for I 
realize you ^are a hero. 

Jack {dubiously). Dear Lucy, you might change your 
mind if at the end of twenty days my skeleton was still 
too well covered with solid flesh. I understand it is the 
people with diseased tissues that lose flesh so rapidly. Let 
us compromise on thirty days. 

Lucy {very positively) . No! no! dear Jack, No! 

Jack. And now speak the little word which will make 
me forget that I have a body and raise me to the seventh 
heaven of bliss. Speak it quickly ! I hear your mother's 
step. 

Lucy. Yes ! {Jack grabs her, kisses her swiftly. They 
hurriedly seat themselves as the mother taps on the door.) 

Lucy. Come in, mother ! 

Mrs. Lovelace {bustling in). I fear you have forgot- 
ten to offer Jack any refreshments. {Proceeds to a round 
table where she uncovers an appetizing lunch.) Come, 
Lucy, it is high time you began to eat like a sane human 
being. As for you, Jack, you know enough to eat when 
you are hungry. {Jack takes Lucy's hand in his, when, 
together they approach Mrs. Lovelace.) 

Jack {jubilantly). Congratulate me! Lucy has at last 



18 A Dose of Hell Act I 

spoken the electric word — yes. I feel somehow that you 
will not seriously object to me as a son. You have always 
seemed to like me. 

Mrs. Lovelace (shaking Jack heartily by the hand). 
I am fi^-lighted ! You are a man after my own heart 
And now that we are so happy, let us eat, drink and be 
merry. 

Jack (looking inquiringly at Lucy). Shall we do as 
your mother desires or — fast? 

Lucy. We will obey mother. I am already quite weak 
from Lenten fasting. Time enough for you to begin a 
twenty days' fast to-morrow. 

Mrs. Lovelace (helps Jack bountifully. To Lucy she 
gives a glass of hot milk). Yes, Jack, to-morrow is quite 
time enough for you to exchange the role of good fellow 
for that of fool. 

Jack (laughing). I should worry — I mean — I ought to 
worry — that's the way you want me to say it, eh, Lucy? 

Mrs. Lovelace (shrugging her shoulders). Just why 
do you fast. Jack, you who never have an ache or a pain — 
and appear to love God too much to fear Him — and, 
moreover, seem to be unafraid of the "dear devil," as you 
call him. 

Jack. Oh, I can think of no other way for a man who 
owes his fortune to ''Corporate Brigandage" — as big busi- 
ness is called nowadays — to play the role of hero, or at 
least to make a beginning. 

Mrs. Lovelace. Then you do not consider our Big 
Business architects as bona fide heroes? 

Jack. Undoubtedly such men as Rockefeller, Carnegie, 
Hearst, Ford, et cetera, have, by their prodigious feats in 
economics and stupendous philanthropies, so raised the 
standard of living and thinking as to cause our, so-called, 
common people to become as gods, knowing good and evil 
— and, thereby, may hang a tale. (Jack laughs uproar- 
iously.) 



Act I A Dose of Hell 19 

Lucy. Our leaders of to-day never take the precaution 
to spend their nights in patient, holy vigil, praying for 
divine guidance to do the right, like the romantic Knights 
I love so well to read about. 

Jack (laughing). I should worry — I mean I ought to 
worry. But the truth is, dear Lucy, that to raise big 
business to skyscraping heights has required big think- 
ing. Hence they needed all the sleep they could get. 

Mrs. Lovelace. We are too near our big men of to-day 
to be able to size them up. To our children's children 
they will loom up as as prodigious giants. 

Lucy (deprecatingly). Oh, mother dear! Never can 
our big business exploiters be regarded as romantic heroes. 
They have not the romantic aspect of an Alexander, a 
Caesar, a Napoleon. We cannot even class them with 
heroes in art, science, literature, poetry, politics. It would 
be sacrilegious, of course, to mention Rockefeller, Car- 
negie and the rest in the same breath with religious heroes. 

Jack (pleadingly). Please, sweet Lucy, let me fast 
forty days and forty nights. 

Mrs. Lovelace. Stuff and nonsense ! (Rings for maid 
who promptly responds.) Bring us a bottle of that ex- 
cellent wine with an aristocratic title. (Exit maid.) 
Rare occasions call for wine with a title. 

Jack. What do you mean? 

Mrs. Lovelace. Oh, this aristocratic wine of mine is 
in reality California champagne but, like too many of our 
American girls, it has gone to Europe and returned with 
an aristocratic label. (Mrs. Lovelace pours out the wine 
and maid hands a glass of it to Jack and another to Lucy. 
Exit maid. Mrs. Lovelace rises and lifts her glass of 
wine.) To Jack and Lucy! May their eyes open to the 
fact that life itself is but another word for romance and 
may they play the roles of American hero and heroine in 
a big, New-World way. (They clink and drink.) 

Jack (with glass held aloft). I shall propose a double 



20 A Dose of Hell Act I 

toast. First to Mrs. Lovelace, whose face always shines 
with the wholesome light of common sense. Second to 
sweet Lucy who has but to smile on a cloud of earth to 
cause it to sprout wings. {They clink glasses, laugh mer- 
rily, then drink.) 

Lucy (raises her glass, timidly). I propose a toast to 
mother, my life-long friend, to Jack, my newly discovered 
hero and to blessed Romance. (Again they clink glasses 
merrily together and drink.) 

Mrs. Lovelace. We will now let Meta take charge of 
the table while we seek easy chairs. (Rings for maid. 
She responds promptly.) Will you have a cigar, Jack? 

Jack. Thanks, no. May I set the music going? 

Mrs. Lovelace. Certainly. (This done Jack goes up 
to L,ucy who has resumed her seat on settee.) 

Jack. Please, sweet Lucy, dance this delicious waltz 
with me. I want to show you how I have improved. You 
see while you have been observing Lent I have been 
taking dancing lessons until my teacher tells me I can do 
the trick as gracefully as the foreign fellows. (They 
dance in an exquisite manner. Both mother and fnuid 
beam on the happy couple. Presently the curtain slowly, 
descends.) 

END OF ACT I. 




DANTE— HELL'S GREATEST POET 



ACT II 

Rich and artistic, yet comfort-exhaling, library of 
Horace York, noted in the American metropolis for his 
"Limited At Homes/' The decoration of this commodi- 
ous room gave the impression that its occupant was 
devoted to native land and city. Silken folds of Old 
Glory, artistically draped around a trinity of American 
heroes in characteristic scenes, together with a couple of 
fresco paintings, seemed to confirm this view. The mag- 
nificent central fresco represented the skyline of America's 
metropolis >as viewed by the light of a soft sun from an 
ocean greyhound. The gigantic, phantom-like buildings, 
together with their guardian angel. Liberty, gleamed with 
the pure radiance of a heavenly city not made with hands. 
"New York City Enthroned" was the subject of the other 
fresco painting. It was a very clever, impressionist, 
bird's-eye view of the city, supported by the stanzas of 
Hymn to New York, done in solid phalanxes. All was 
inclosed by a rich border, exquisite in design and har- 
moniously tinted. It reminded the student of a page of 
illuminated Latin manuscript of the 15th century, writ 
large. 

Horace {stepping lively toward the entrance door in 
order to greet Jack Hill, who is being ushered into library 
by an attendant). Holy Smoke! Is this Jack Hill — or 
his ghost? (Grabs Jack with both hands and gazes 
anxiously at his friend's countenance.) 

Jack (with a ghastly smile). Both! I am still riveted 
to my body. 

Horace. To your bones, you mean. How ill you 
must have been, to have lost so much flesh. Here rest 

21 



22 A Dose of Hell Act II 

your bones in my invalid chair. {Arranges chair in 
recumbent position.) 

Jack. I have not been ill — merely reducing. 

Horace. Reducing — the devil ! 

Jack {laughing weakly). Why, yes, if you like to put 
it that way. Excuse me ! I prefer my usual chair. 
{Seats himself in big rocker. Horace draws up one of 
smaller proportions and they rock in unison.) 

Horace. How^ do you put it? What is your excuse 
for looking like a medieval saint of the 20th century 
to-day — illumined as it is and knit together by the Light 
and Magic of Science? 

Jack. My body was too robust. People were begin- 
ning to speak of me as a dangerously good fellow. 

Horace. What rubbish ! /Nature set you up to carry 
big burdens like the rail-splitter, Lincoln, or, Goethals — 
who announces that war will find the canal ready. 

Jack {firmly). I shall shoulder them when they come. 
Never fear ! 

Horace {disgustedly). You will shoulder nothing if 
you keep on swindling your body. {Sympathetically.) 
Dear pal, it is but too obvious that you have overdone 
the reducing of your bodily reserves. Tremendous prob- 
lems are rising on our national horizon, which will de- 
mand to be handled by robust patriots supported by robust 
bodies. Sighing lovers and sickly saints are out of place 
in these days of huge world-problems and national issues. 
History testifies eloquently to the fact that neither in- 
dividuals nor nations can safely court weakness. {At- 
tendant ushers in Paul Gillette and Charles Deslys. All 
greet one another heartily.) 

Charles {to Jack). What luck to have you with us 
again ! But it pains me to observe how ill you must 
have been. 

Horace. Be seated, gentlemen. Jack must have no 
excuse for exposing his bones in an upright position 



Act il A Dose of Hell 23 

longer than possible. The exhibit is indecent. (All 
seat themselves, Jack meanwhile trying his best to ha, ha, 
in his usual hearty style.) 

Charles (in appearance recalling Beau Brummel, to 
Jack). I don't suppose you would dare to face your 
tailor now. He would throw a fit to see his once perfect 
fit a cause for mirth. 

Jack. I imagine he would not covet the opportunity 
to serve me in my present state of emaciation. 

Paul {in the caustic manner of the pessimistic, chronic 
bachelor). What's got you in this fool fix? A woman 
is at the bottom of it, I'll bet ! The history of woman in 
connection with man has been a chronique scandaleuse 
from the beginning. That incorrigible misfit can turn a 
man — or the world for that matter — upside down and in- 
side out with a thoroughness which has long convinced 
me she is part and parcel of the Prince of Devils. 
{Laughter.) Consider for a moment what Eve of Para- 
dise, Helen of Troy and Cleopatra of Egypt have cost 
the world ! And now Emmeline of England is bent on 
playing the same old feminine role of destruction in a 
huge way. Religion is right in laying the fall of man 
to woman — and it is my opinion that man will keep on 
falling so long as there is a woman left on earth. {Jack 
good-naturedly ha, ha's while the rest join in with more 
or less enthusiasm.) 

Paul {to Jack, angrily). Why do you laugh, you fool, 
when some woman has reduced you to a skeleton and 
doubtless to bankruptcy? 

Horace {to Paul, chidingly). Tut! Tut! Why set 
up such a fierce growl when that despised misfit of yours 
has let you severely alone for a whole decade? 

Paul (scowling). Somehow a man never feels secure 
when it comes to woman, and often the oldest fools are 
the biggest fools — bah! (Turns to Jack.) Have you 
forgotten what you studied at college — or, was it in the 



24 A Dose of Hell Act II 

Bible we learned how the sirens served their victims, how 
they charmed them till they perished with hunger, like 
you are doing? * 

Horace (appealingly to Jack). Dear Jack, your heart 
really is tender to weakness. Next, you are reducing 
your splendid body to weakness. Permit me to warn 
you in time — be strong! BE STRONG! 

{Butler appears and announces that dinner is ready. 
Hilariously Horace and Charles each secure an arm of 
Jack's and escort him to the opposite half of this mag- 
nificent library — sometimes, as now, separated from the 
sitting-room portion by huge, sliding, double doors — where 
they seat him at a library table, metamorphosed into a re- 
splendent and artistic ditting table. While they take their 
0W71 places Paul is being ceremoniously seated by a 
waiter. Scarcely was the edge of their appetite removed 
when a fantastically gotten-up group of devilkins — sug- 
gesting black butterflies with wings of scarlet — rush in 
and begin a performance which includes freak dancing, 
freak singing, and a sort of diabolic music wrung from 
stringed instruments. As Paul rarely lost an opportunity 
to snub them no one was surprised to see a slipper Hy 
into the air and land pat into Paul's plate. They then 
rush from the room, shrieking with vixenish laughter.) 

Paul {in a rage). Why do you have these freak, cab- 
aret devilkins to entertain us? 

Horace. Because they do entertain us, I suppose. Be- 
sides, it's a case of Hobson's choice. I don't like men 
to try to amuse us on an occasion like this, and you will 
not remain if there is the semblance of femininity. 

Paul {uneasily) . Somehow — to-night — these devilkins 
cause me great perturbation. I am sure we have under- 
estimated their power — and their will — to wreck us, when 
they get an opportunity. 

Horace. It is possible they might find a way to give 
you serious annoyance one of these days. You make no 



Act II A Dose of Hell 25 

secret of your dislike for the Mother Eve sex; and you 
really have treated these devilkins as you would not think 
of treating your dog. 

Paul. I am told they are spiteful little creatures. In 
order to be able to settle with me they may seriously 
damage all of us. Don't forget that! Don't have them 
here any more. Watch the people who seem bent on de- 
stroying things. It was beyond the power of the Vandals 
to so much as rear a suburb to Rome, but they did much, 
very much, toward wrecking the grand old City on the 
''Seven Hills." 

Charles (to Horace). While the little demons are 
resting after their arduous labors, why not treat us to 
"Hymn to New York" as only Horace York can render 
so thrilling a masterpiece. I feel confident it owes its 
being to you. But as you refuse to own your literary 
offspring we must perforce regard it as the poem of an 
unknown god. Let us have it before we get busy with 
toasts and drinks, since a profusion of windmill gestures 
detract from the dignity of the poem. 

Jack. I, too, am eager to hear our favorite hymn. 
Get busy without more delay. (Horace rises and assumes 
his usual position by a small stand where he can give 
himself full liberty in respect to gestures; also be seen to 
the best advantage. He has been trained by the finest of 
elocutionists and — provided he has not drunk too many 
toasts — does full justice to both teacher and poem.) 

Horace York. 

O let some young Timotheus sweep his lyre 
Hymning New York. Lo ! Every tower and spire 
Puts on immortal fire. 

This city, which ye scorn 

For her rude sprawling limbs, her strength unshorn — 
Hands blunt from grasping, Titan-like at Heaven, 
Is a world-wonder, vaulting all the Seven ! 



26 A Dose of Hell Act II 

Europe? Here's all of Europe in one place; 
Beauty unconscious; yes, and grace. 
Rome? Here all that Rome was, and is not; 
Here Babylon — and Babylon's forgot. 
Golden Byzantium, drunk with pride and sin, 
Carthage that flickered out where we begin. 
London? a swill of mud in Shakespeare's time; 
Ten Troys lie tombed in centuries of grime ! 
Who'd not have lived in Athens at her prime? 
Or helped to raise the mighty Walls of Rome ? 

See, blind men ! Walls rise all about you here at home ! 

Who would not hear once more 

That oceanic roar, 

"Ave ! Ave Imperator !" 

With which an army its Augustus greets? 

Hark ! There's an army roaring in the streets ! 

This spawning filth, these monuments uncouth 

Are but her wild, ungovernable youth. 

But the skyscrapers, dwarfing earthly things — 

Ah, that is how she sings ! 

Wake to the vision shining in the sun; 
Earth's ancient, conquering races rolled in one, 
A world beginning — and yet nothing done ! 
(Gratifying applause.) 

Horace. Thank you, gentlemen. (Bows profoundly. 
Resumes his place at the table.) And now we will have 
our toasts, observing our usual rules, viz., that each one 
is to toast what he likes and in the way he likes. But 
first I will ring for our little devilkins. They have prom- 
ised to give their new, patriotic yell after my usual toast — 
America. (Rings. They come trooping in m/inus wings 
but with a big drum and proceed to seat themselves in 
a picturesque group. Horace raises aloft his glass of 
wine.) 



Act II A Dose of Hell 27 

Horace (impressively) : 

America ! Our hearts, our hopes are all with thee, 
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears. 
Our faith, triumphant o'er our fears, 
Are all with thee, are all with thee. 

(Hearty applause. This was followed by the promised, 
patriotic yell on the part of the little demons, which was 
given with such perfect skill and abandon that they re- 
ceived an ovation, Paul himself joining in with enthu- 
siasm.) 

Horace. Jack, favor us with your toast without fur- 
ther delay. I am curious to hear what a near-skeleton 
will toast. 

Jack (rises with alacrity and raises high in the air a 
glass of 7vater). My toast to-night will be a double one — 
Water and Woman, because I feel newly and deeply in- 
debted to both. To Water — whom some saint has de- 
clared to be the liquid smile and good-will of God — for the 
reason that it has sustained me physically for twenty days 
and increased the activity of my mind. To Woman — 
more especially to the woman — because she has lifted me 
out of Flatland and placed me among the stars. (Faint 
applause, on the part of the men, hearty on that of the 
little demons.) 

Paul. Bosh! (They clink glasses and drink.) I, too, 
will toast Water and Woman. They have both taught me 
to find satisfactory substitutes. (Again they clink and 
drink, laughing ironically.) 

Charles (raising aloft his glass of wine). Permit me 
to toast a certain American millionaire who resides in 
Paris and sees to it that the tomb of Beau Brummel is 
kept in perfect repair. May he do as much for mine 
when I am all in — should the need arise. (Merry laugh- 
ter, clinking of glasses and drinking.) 



28 A Dose of Hell Act II 

Paul (growlingly). Be seated, gentlemen! My dis- 
approbation concerning the conduct to-night of our once 
good fellow has augmented until I can keep silent no 
longer. I must speak out — or burst ! 

Horace. Speak out ! I doubt not we are all exas- 
perated that our Jack has become a water-fiend and a 
woman-fiend. 

Charles. Yes, speak out. Growl your fiercest, Paul. 
I am not less annoyed than you can be over each new 
insult our once good fellow has given the perfect dinner 
provided by our host on this occasion. To prove that / 
have appreciated the chic repast with its choice selection 
of rare wines I will run over the items, not missing one. 
Our temptation to dine well began with the picturesque 
appearance of small tomatoes followed by chicken soup 
with the usual hors d'oeuvres. Brook trout with moselle 
sauce and a salad of cucumbers next whetted our appe- 
tites. These were followed by a saddle of milk-fed lamb 
with mint sauce flavored with orange juice, accompanied 
by green peas and new potatoes. The sherbet was of 
creme yvette. The roast was boned and we had stuffed 
guinea hen, with new asparagus. The salad was fol- 
lowed by a savory of cheese and paprika and a light 
dessert of ice cream and fancy cakes. Did our once good 
fellow so much as taste one of the rarities set before 
him ! He did not ! All were turned down without ex- 
ception. It is now our turn to show him that he can not 
turn his pals down with impunity. 

Horace. How shall we proceed? What do? Not 
very long ago he could have thrashed us all, en bloc. 

One of the Little Demons (eagerly). I will tell 
you how. (Jack ha, ha's good-hum or edly.) Make a 
martyr-suffragette of him ! Feed him through his 
nose! (Consternation and laughter.) 

Paul. By Jove ! That's a working idea. 



Act II A Dose of Hell 29 

Charles (laughing airily). I second the motion. An 
idiotic fasting bout — like Jack's — prepares the way for 
all sorts of diabolism. Besides a sick man is the worst 
of parasites and an ugly one to boot ! We must pull 
him up sharply. 

Horace (to attendant). Bring from the storeroom 
that coil of rope, also the handcuffs and the medals we 
used the other night in our playlet. (They are promptly 
produced.) 

Horace (giving the handcuffs to Charles). Take these 
and be ready to exercise them when the psychological mo- 
ment arrives. Meanwhile I will try to find the head or 
tail of this bunch of rope. (Concentrates on the rope.) 

Charles (irritated). I say how do you work these 
things? I never could understand machinery. 

Jack. Permit me to come to your assistance. (Takes 
the handcuffs from Charles and fastens them on his 
wrists. Charles tries to free his hands but finds he can- 
not. The little demons laugh with vixenish hilarity and 
turn a variety of somersaults.) 

Horace (shouting with impatience). This rope has 
neither beginning nor end ! 

Jack. I will help you. (Before Horace could politely 
refuse Jack has so cleverly enmeshed him in its coils that 
he cotdd not move either hand or foot. Jack then lifts 
him and seats him in a big arm-chair. The little devilkins 
are immensely amused and testify to the fact by shrill 
laughter and impish monkey-shines.) 

Horace (astonished and crestfallen). Hang it! You 
lack a good deal of being as weak and imbecile as you 
look. (To Charles.) We should not have begun this 
diabolic scheme without — due preparation. 

Paul. Since Jack has disarmed two of us I propose 
a boxing match between what's left of us. I think I 
can win out. Ghosts have yet to win a reputation as 
boxers. 



30 A Dose of Hell Act II 

Charles. Being unfit for anything else Horace and 
myself will act as judges. 

Horace. It goes without saying that the one who gets 
whipped must enact the painful role of martyr-suffragette 
and be forcibly fed through his proboscis. (The little 
devilkins look disappointed. They do not know that pro- 
boscis is an elongated kind of nose.) 

Several Devilkins (shrilly and simultaneously). He 
must be fed through the nose ! Through the nose ! 
Through the nose! (Much laughter on the part of the 
men. Exit Paul and Jack to prepare for boxing.) 

Horace. It's mighty stupid — not to be able to move 
hand or foot. (To the devilkins.) Give us that pa- 
triotic yell again. The devil himself couldn't do it any 
better. (The yell was given with tremendous verve. As 
the head of Horace was the only free thing about him he 
made it do double duty by way of showing approbation, 
while Charles — with his hands in handcuffs — worked his 
feet and mouth to such an enthusiastic pitch that the little 
demons not only laughed in their shrillest style but turned 
a bunch of nezv and complicated somersaults. Enter Jack 
and Paul in lightweight szveaters. Paul makes \a spirited 
beginning. For some little time the boxing bout proceeds 
with no great gains on either side. However, when it 
appears certain that Jack, notwithstanding his weakened 
condition, is bound to carry off the honors of the match 
the bravest of the little demons rushes, pell-mell, between 
the two boxers.) 

Devilkin (beseechingly). Please, please, Mr. Jack, 
be a martyr-suffragette. We want you to get the medals. 
They are beauties. They cost $25. 

Jack. That settles it — if they cost $25. (The men 
laugh uproariously.) 

Devilkin. Yes, you are a good feller an' ought to 
have every one of 'em. 



Act II A Dose of Hell 31 

Jack (seriously to the men). It is wonderful how 
women admire a man who has his breast covered with 
medals. At least I know of one woman who adores a 
medal-bedecked hero. (Suddenly.) What time is it? 

Horace. Ten o'clock. 

Jack. By Jove ! My fasting bout of twenty days — 
and forty nights — is up. (Laughter.) With your per- 
mission, Paul, we will call our boxing match off and I 
will play the role of suffering suffragette to please my 
little friends. 

Paul. I agree since I am getting the worst of it. 
(Jack proceeds to remove the handcuffs from the wrists 
of Charles. Next he frees Horace from his imprisonment 
in the coil of rope. Resignedly he scats himself in the 
big chair Horace has vacated with unseemly haste. With 
hilarious alacrity Horace, Paul and Charles get busy. 
Paul makes use of three sheets before he is satisfied that 
the ample middle zone of Jack is tightly tethered to the 
back of the stout, big chair. Charles has adjusted the 
handcuffs on Jack's wrists with infinite satisfaction. 
Meanwhile Horace has used all the coil of rope on Jack's 
lower extremities. He wanted to make sure Jack could 
not free them and treat them all to a round of kicks. An- 
other sheet was used up before his near-Roman neck 
was anchored to a tall piece of furniture. Paul tries 
heroically, with the assistance of Horace and Charles and 
a couple of attendants, to get some soup into Jack's throat, 
via the nasal passages. To please the little devilkins Paul 
imitates the hysterical suffragette to perfection. He tries 
to bite the hands that feed him, makes choking sounds, 
actually kicks — the rope giving more or less — and all in 
so feminine a manner as to fill the little demons with 
merriment. In their joy they do some high kicking, and 
at intervals shriek with laughter. Altogether Bedlam 
reigns, in the midst of which the little mischief makers 
dope the wine.) 



32 A Dose of Hell Act II 

Horace. We must not feed him too much. He has 
been fasting so long. {To attendant.) Bring the three 
medals. Any man who will stand for all this wretched 
nonsense to please little devilkins deserves every medal 
we can scrape up. 

{Jack is relieved of handcuffs, sheets and rope. Medals 
are produced.) 

Horace {holds up medals). Who will make the pre- 
sentation speech? 

Paul. Bosh ! Make it yourself. Merely say that Jack 
has proved himself to be an all-round imbecile. Hence 
entitled to a bunch of fake medals. 

Jack. All I can say for myself is that I have earned 
something. To be fed by tube, via the nose, is a frightful 
experience, and I feel confident that if anybody has really 
earned the right to vote it is the martyr-suffragette. 

Paul {disgusted). It is plain that much fasting has 
made our poor Jack loony. Else he would be aware that 
these new fanatics are undermining Old England much 
the same as the Christian fanatics undermined Old Rome. 

Jack. It is an old, well-established belief that only in 
the school of suffering can humanity be lifted up. Now 
I can't help feeling intense sympathy for martyr-suffra- 
gettes who, in order to save others, must themselves first 
be nailed to the cross of suffering or broken on the wheel 
of agony. 

Horace. The Spirit moves me — as my Quaker ances- 
tors used to say — to speak. 

Paul. Cut it out! {Laughter.) 

Horace {ignoring Paul's interruption. As a prelimi- 
nary preparation he makes a succession of windmill 
gestures). Little demons and big demons. {Giggling on 
the part of the little demons.) I am bound to make a 
speech. Nothing can stop me. 

Paul. Cut it short! 



Act II A Dose of Hell 33 

Horace (making a new beginning in which the wind- 
mill gestures seem interminable and convulses his audi- 
ence). I tell you I am bound to make a speech. 

Paul. Cut it short ! 

Horace (flying to pieces). I've a good mind to thrash 
every one of you ! 

The Majority. Go on ! Go on ! Speech ! Speech ! 

Horace. Since it is plain that my audience is a pack 
of rowdies I will cut out my speech altogether and merely 
suggest that we toast Jack ! the unconquerable ! Jack ! the 
new type of financier! Jack! the giant-killer! (Hearty 
cheers and clapping of hands. Horace, Charles and Paul 
hasten, unsuspectingly, to drink of the doped wine, 
while Jack, presently recalling that his fasting bout is a 
thing of the past, also drinks a glass of the doped liqueur. 
Seeing which the little demons are so disappointed that 
they silently steal out of the room.) 

Jack (having drank zvith the others, Jack raises his 
glass). My Friends — In response to the glowing tribute 
of Hymn to New York permit me to toast Love — that 
spark of Divinity which transfigures life with romance. 
We are here but a few, fleeting years. Henceforth may 
romance, high as the towers of our great city, inspire us 
to do skyscraping deeds ! 

Paul. Bosh ! (Nevertheless they all clink glasses and 
drink merrily.) 

Horace (looking around). What has become of our 
little entertainers? They appear to have taken French 
leave. I am disappointed. They were to have given us 
their newest, most impish dance and song business while 
we were smoking. 

Paul. I, for one, am glad they have cleared out. Con- 
tinue to have them around and they will do us up yet. 
(Paul throws himself down on a big, well-cushioned 
settee. Jack wanders about until he strikes the invalid 
chair.) 



34 A Dose of Hell Act II 

Jack. Somehow this looks good to me now. (Throws 
himself down. Charles hunts tip the next most tempting 
reclining place, and occupies it. Horace follows the ex- 
ample of his guests.) 

Horace (to attendant). Pass around the best brand 
of cigars. Those presented to me by a certain crowned 
head of Europe. (Having lighted these precious cigars 
all smoke in silence a fezv moments. Attendant is given 
permission to retire with the others.) 

Paul. Not bad — but, nevertheless, I begin to feel bad 
and upset. 

Charles. I, too, feel very strange. 

Paul. That wine we had last tasted mighty queer. 
I'll bet the little devilkins doped it. They are so full of 
devilish pranks. 

Horace. For shame ! You have nursed your woes in 
connection with one woman-derelict until you are as sus- 
picious as the devil. 

Paul. Why shouldn't I be as suspicious as the devil 
when I'm feeling like the devil? Why I feel like a mad- 
man thrown to Japanese sabres ! 

Jack. I, too, feel as if my last hour had come. If 
only sweet Lucy was here to hold my hand. 

Paul (disgustedly). B-b-osh ! If I am semi-cr-crazy 
you are all-r-r-round silly. 

Charles (hysterically). You cannot let a friend — a 
friend — die like this ! (SnufHes and sobs in his exquisite 
handkerchief.) 

Horace (with an extreme effort to throw off increas- 
ing stupor). I will never desert my suffering compan- 
ions ! I will fight to the last ditch for them and for our 
sacred country ! 

Paul. B-b-bosh ! 

Horace. Never for a moment would I give up my 
American citizenship ! 

Paul. B-b-bosh ! 



Act II A Dose of Hell 35 

Horace (grandiloquently). They say, See Rome and 
die ! / say, See New York and live — or bust. 

Paul. B-b-bosh ! (The rest take no notice.) 

Horace (by a supreme effort of iinll-power half raises 
himself and shouts). I would rather die daily on Brook- 
lyn Bridge than stagnate in Europe from sun to sun ! 

Paul. W-what m-matters now where you s-stagnate? 
You are getting old ! 

Charles (stops weeping to ask:) Who says I am get- 
ting old? I was told only yesterday that I had all the 
freshness of twenty-five and the gaity of an adorable 
youth. But to-night (sobs) things are different. Who 
would not feel old (sobs) in an atmosphere of diluted 
flue gases. We shall see ghosts presently. (Sobs hys- 
terically ill his fine handkerchief — a costly antique affair.) 

Horace (to Charles). I am astonished to see you 
such a baby. One would think you had failed to secure 
a coveted jade ornament from China — or a bit of jeweled 
Florentine work. 

Paul (hilariously. Tries to quote Walt Mason). On 
B-Britain's s-shore the suf-suf-suffragette is keeping all 
m-men in a s-sweat, and e'en the kic-kic-kic-king is in 
a sweat. (Paul laughs in a mirthless, maudlin manner.) 

Charles (stops zveeping and folds his hands in prayer). 

Now I lay me down to sleep. If I should die (Again 

he weeps in his handkerchief.) 

Horace (with forced bravado but, nevertheless, wabbly, 
sings a club version of the same prayer). Now I lay me 
down to sleep, if I should die before I wake, I should 
worry ! 

Paul (imitating the forced bravado of Horace and 
his manner of singing). N-now I 1-lay me down to 
sl-sl-sleep. If I should d-d-d-die before I w-wake, T 
should (shouts) not worry! 

Jack (in high-pitched falsetto tones). Say the little 
prayer right ! Say it as your mother taught you ! 



36 A Dose of Hell Act II 

(Lowers his voice and repeats in sweetly, solemn tones.) 
Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul 
to keep. If I should die-die-die {Slips into uncon- 
sciousness as he whispers the last die.) 

Horace (tries to help Jack out). Before I wake- 
wake {He, too, drops into unconsciousness. Paul 

and Charles have already succumbed and are dead to the 
world and the things thereof.) 

Chauffeur {arrives to take Jack home. From the 
open door he sees his beloved employer looking like a 
dead man. Rushes into the room and is terrified by what 
he observes. Hastens to the telephone and asks central 
for Gramercy 7695 and gets it. Then, distractedly). Is 
this Mrs. Lovelace? I must speak to Mrs. Lovelace at 
once ! 

Mrs. Lovelace. I am Mrs. Lovelace. Has anything 
happened to Jack? 

Chauffeur. I am afraid so. Come as fast as you can, 
with your daughter, to York's apartment. Bring your 
doctor with you and stop for Mr. Jack's. {Chauffeur 
leaves telephone and goes to the side of Jack. Gases on 
his countenance in anguish.) 

Chauffeur {in heart-breaking tones). Oh, Mr. Jack! 
Mr. Jack ! You were the only square friend my life has 
had, and now you are gone. My God ! My God ! How 
can I live without you? {Sinks on his knees, throws an 
arm about his beloved employer and bows his head in 
grief. Enter Mrs. Lovelace and Lucy, followed by two 
doctors. On catching sight of the ghastly countenance 
of her fiance and the kneeling form of Jack's chauffeur 
Lucy clutches the arm of her mother and wildly screams.) 

Lucy. Jack is dead ! He has fasted too long ! I am 
his murderer ! (Faints and is carried out of the room by 
their doctor. Mrs. Lovelace, half-fainting herself, fol- 
lows. The other doctor — Jack's doctor — proceeds to make 
an examination of Jack and presently speaks encourage 



Act II A Dose of Hell 37 

ingly to chauffeur. Whereupon the young man rises, 
grasps the hand of the doctor and wrings it with joy. 
He then accompanies the doctor about, to learn if the 
others are likewise likely to live. Re-enter Mrs. Love- 
lace with Dr. Murry.) 

Mrs. Lovelace. Are these men dead? Poisoned by 
that new and very deadly germ found by a French sa- 
vant? 

Dr. Johnson (flippantly). Yes, they are all dead — 
dead drunk! 

Mrs. Lovelace (extremely shocked and very angry). 
The wretches ! Why, their spree may cost my precious 
Lucy her life. I wish you could think of some way to 
give these gay, thoughtless vivants a lesson they would 
not forget as long as they live. 

Dr. Murry (who has always been very fond of Mrs. 
Lovelace and Lucy). They richly deserve a dose of hell. 

Mrs. Lovelace. You are right! Why not give it to 
them? Rig up a Dante Inferno. Put a diabolic, skulking 
beast in it. Next, you two doctors make yourselves up 
as Dante and Virgil, so that when they wake up, half- 
dazed, and see the flames, the hideous beast and — what 
looks like two classic visitants of hell — they will get the 
fright of their lives. 

Dr. Murry. My dear friend, I will do my best to 
carry out your wishes. 

Mrs. Lovelace (looking at her watch). It is time my 
poor Lucy had her medicine. I must go. 

Dr. Johnson. We must get busy, too, and prepare a 
dose of hell. (Exit doctors, Mrs. Lovelace and chauffeur.) 

END OF act II 



ACT III 

Commodious library of Horace York, superheated and 
presenting the appearance of a fiery, Dantesque Inferno. 
The close, heated atmosphere, together with the doped 
wine imbibed, cause the young men to become more or 
less delirious. They moan and mutter, groan, and occa- 
sionally talk aloud. Also, now and then, in their anguish, 
they gnash their teeth, smite their breasts and utter pierc- 
ing lamentations. When the two doctors, disguised as 
Dante and Virgil, push open the creaking entrance door, 
Paul and Horace are uttering sharp cries of anguish and 
smiting their breasts, zvhile Jack and Charles are moaning 
and tossing restlessly. 

Dante {with deep emotion). Bard! Thou who art 
my guide in the New World inferno — as thou wast in the 
Old — from whence came these miserable creatures whose 
cries of woe rend our hearts? 

Virgil. They hail from a great city of sky-reaching 
towers, many of which already far out-tower that of 
Babel. 

Dante. Why were not these New World Babel- 
builders dispersed, like those of old, ere they had finished 
one sky-reaching tower? 

Virgil. Tis possible that in the New World Babylon 
there were discovered ten righteous souls. {Accents of 
anger, cries for ventilation, intermingled with despairing 
groans and piercing lamentations on the part of the sleep- 
ers, cause such a deafening tumult that the two speakers 
perforce observe silence. They walk farther into the 
room, when they are confronted "by that image vile of 
Fraud," with the countenance of a just man, but with the 
body of a beast and the tail of a serpent. Angered by the 

38 



Act III A Dose of Hell 39 

presence of Dante and Virgil, this base creature upturned 
its venomous tail and hissed in a blood-curdling manner. 
Next it made a lunge and fastened its claws in Dante's 
robe. Virgil denounces the beast in god-like tones.) 

Virgil. Cursed creature, avaunt ! Begone ! Begone l 
To outer darkness betake thyself, where thou dost belong ! 

Beast (in a whining falsetto voice). Woe is me! 
Wo-e ! woe ! wo-e ! (Skulks out of sight. Scarcely had 
Virgil accomplished this feat when there was a new out- 
burst of sighs, groans, and exclamations of a harroimng 
kind.) 

Paul (furiously). Hell, let up! I can stand no more! 
I am choking, sizzling, in this fiery place ! (Screams in 
piercing tones.) Let up, I say. Water! Water! 
WATER ! My millions for a drink of water ! (A lull fol- 
lows this violent outburst.) 

Dante. O Master, must this group of tortured souls 
forever abandon blessed hope? 

Virgil. 'Tis plain thou didst not read with care the 
dreadful words writ deep on the entrance gate of hell. 

Dante. Virtue Supreme, I pray you impart them to 
me. I could not make them out ; my eyes with tears were 
blurred. 

Virgil. At thy desire I will repeat the stern decree 
visited on those who enter here. (In sepulchral tones 
and with awe-inspiring gestures. Virgil repeats, as fol- 
lows:) 

Through me you pass into eternal pain; 
Through me among the people lost for aye. 
Justice the founder of my fabric moved: 
To rear me was the task of power divine, 
Supremest Wisdom, and primeval love. 
Before me things create were none, save things 
Eternal and eternal I endure. 
All hope abandon, ye who enter here! 



40 A Dose of Hell Act III 

Dante. Virtue Supreme, these words import hard 
meaning. Of what crimes were they guilty to bring upon 
themselves a doom so terrible and everlasting? 

Paul (cries out again in piercing tones, meanwhile 
smiting his breast), I am burning up! I am parched! 
I am aflame ! Will no one give me a drop of water — 
God's free gift to man? My fortune for a drink of 
water! Water! Water! water/ (Dante is overcome 
with grief. He is about to swoon. Virgil grasps him 
by the hand, then with pleasant looks restores him.) 

Dante. O Divine Master, may we not look on the 
countenance of this group who lie within these exposed 
sepulchres nigh at hand? Already the lids are raised and 
none o'er them keeps watch, 

Virgil. Ay, approach closer ! I will discourse of 
their lives, cut off midway while they were feasting and 
merry with wine. (They pause at the sepulchre of Paul 
and gaze for a few moments in silence on his anguished 
countenance. He is fiercely muttering in an unintelligible 
manner and shaking his fist at an imaginary foe.) 

Dante. Bard, the parched looks and pathetic speech 
of this miserable creature make me indeed curious con- 
cerning his history. Was he not born and bred in Lib- 
erty's own country, America? 

Virgil. You have guessed aright. He was reared in 
a country o'errun with spoiled children, and where liberty 
has become license and economy, extravagance. His fool- 
ish parents could deny their little Paul nothing, and now 
we see him denied everything, even God's free gift — 
water ! 

Dante. I infer that he was an only child. 

Virgil. Ay, ay. Fate was unkind to him from the be- 
ginning. He was early bred a monopolist and — given his 
brains — it was inevitable that he should develop into a 
multimillionaire of the watered-stock variety. He was 
very unpopular. 



Act III A Dose of Hell 41 

Dante. You astonish me. One would imagine that, 
with his millions, he could easily have bought at least a 
semblance of popularity. 

Virgil. He regarded the people with contempt, and 
when approached for a generous check in behalf of some 
public measure he would repeat with brutal frankness, 
"The people be damned !" 

Dante. He was no hypocrite, it appears. 

Virgil. Far from that sort of meanness was Paul. 
Indeed, he not seldom went out of his way to explain 
why he did not attend church. 

Dante. What reason could this strange being give for 
not cultivating the Divine Spark lodged within his breast ? 

Virgil. He denied that in man's being was lodged a 
Spark of Divinity. He denounced the Church as the 
costliest of parasites, which, though immune from taxa- 
tion, did business but one or two days in the week. 

Dante. O Divine Master, did not this strange crea- 
ture tremble when he thought of the Day of Judgment? 

Virgil. Paul explained away the long-held belief in 
that awful time by declaring that the original language 
given as authority merely referred to a plan for municipal 
improvements laid out by the Maccabees. 

Dante CreHectively). Such a beast would, of course, 
oppose the advancement of woman. 

Virgil. Again you have guessed aright. He held 
with unnecessary fierceness — considering he furnished no 
woman with husband or home — that woman's sphere was 
the home, and that as wife and mother she had ample 
opportunity to engage all her time and talents. 

Dante. What reason did this watered-stock million- 
aire give for furnishing no woman with either husband 
or home? 

Virgil. Like a good many bachelors of both sexes, 
he would never discuss the subject of marriage in a seri- 
ous way. Indeed, the mere mention of the word seemed 



43 A Dose of Hell Act III 

to put him in a flippant mood and as likely as not he 
would hum airily, 

You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on 

his card, 
That a young man married is a young man marred ! 

Dante (clasping his hands together and raising his 
eyes heavenward). Vengeance of Heaven! Oh, how 
thou shouldst be feared! How frightful the fate of this 
flippant, selfish soul ! 

Virgil. Pass we on to the next! (They pause where 
Horace York still drapes one of his own easy-chairs. The 
chair has, however, by skilful metamorphosis, been made 
to present the appearance of an open, fiery, Dantesque 
tomb.) 

Dante. My Master Thou and Guide, pray tell me how 
this handsome, well-made man came to be overtaken by 
a fate so awful. 

Virgil. He was a fake son of America— one who ex- 
pended vast sums of American money in riotous living 
abroad. 

Dante. It is a truism that a man is known by the 
company he keeps. Pray tell me who were this man's 
companions. 

Virgil (sighs deeply). Alas, thou wouldst grow faint, 
perhaps swoon, should I comply with thy request. Whole 
pages of the Almanach de Gotha are devoted to them. 
Nearly all the crowned heads of Europe were as intimate 
with "New York Hymn" — by that name was he known 
to intimates everywhere — as it is possible for a crowned 
head to be with an uncrowned American head. High-bred 
women were not less fond of "New York Hymn." It 
passed into a proverb that where Horace York is, there 
are the Grand Duchesses gathered together. 



Act III A Dose of Hell 43 

Dante. O Bard, explain how "New York Hymn" 
overcame the antipathy aristocrats manifest toward the 
average American millionaire. 

Virgil. This American multimillionaire made it his 
business to understand the idiosyncrasies and know the 
hobbies of European royalty and nobility. Then he clev- 
erly catered to them. He would ransack Europe for the 
delicate viands they preferred. In respect to rare vintages 
he procured bottles of the most rare and precious — so 
rare, indeed, that the Emperor of Austria was accustomed 
to drink but a tiny portion on feast days. His magnifi- 
cent yacht — I have reference to the one where so many 
royalties visited him — was so splendid below decks as to 
cause the envious to declare, 'Tt is not sporty !" 

Dante. O Master, had not this multimillionaire who, 
it appears, spent his life catering to royalty and nobility, 
any responsibilities in connection with his vast American 
fortune ? 

Virgil. ''New York Hymn" did not have to worry 
like the average millionaire. His many millions were 
looked after by responsible trustees and grew, betimes. 

Dante. Virtue Supreme, answer one question more. 
Had this princely American caterer to crowned heads any 
use for native land other than to draw from it huge 
sums? 

Virgil. He was much applauded in Europe for re- 
peating in his bluff, hearty fashion, "Not for a moment 
would I give up my American citizenship !" 

Dante. Did America likewise applaud this spirited 
declaration? 

Virgil (sadly), America feels betrayed by devotion 
that is of the lip merely. But — America is long-suffering ! 
Too long-suffering. She has well-nigh lost her paradise, 
it being now mostly owned by a small band of monopo- 
lists, while the bulk of the people are engaged in a 
desperate struggle for a mere living. 



44 A Dose of Hell Act III 

Dante. Alas ! Alas ! I wonder not that we find 
"New York Hymn" in this place of torment. (Very 
sorrowful the twain turn away and sloivly pace the few 
steps intervening between the tomb of Horace York and 
that of Charles Deslys.) 

Dante. What American is here, O Bard, molded in 
garments so fine and fit that hell itself seems loth to 
taint them with its fiery breath? 

Virgil. *Tis Charles Deslys, the American Beau 
Brummel. Ah, doubly dowered was this descendant of a 
sturdy Huguenot and an Italian mother — first with genius 
recalling Greece in her prime; next with a fortune that 
a king might envy. 

Dante. O Divine Master, to what use did he devote 
his talents rare and wealth prodigious? 

Virgil. This degenerate son of America toiled not, 
neither did he spin. He chose to squander both talents 
and wealth prodigious in riotous living and reckless ex- 
penditure. 

Dante. Was he, too, a princely caterer to royalty and 
nobility ? 

Virgil. My son, dost thou not know that fake Ameri- 
cans are as inventive of ways to spend money with daz- 
zling prodigality as they are of get-rich-quick schemes 
which cause it to flow into their tills with danger-breeding 
velocity? Charles invented a scheme whereby millions 
of American capital were tied up in things of little worth 
and trifles light as air — for which he paid sensational 
prices. 

Dante. Has America many of this danger-breeding 
kind of parasite? 

Virgil. Too many by far. It is this prodigal class 
which has given her the reputation of being the great 
spendthrift nation of modern times. 

Dante. I suppose her metropolis sets the pace for 
extravagant living and wanton spending. 



Act III A Dose of Hell 45 

Virgil. You are right, and the reckless expenditure of 
public money keeps pace with that of private. The in- 
debtedness of New York has increased over 250 per cent 
in ten years, and the interest thereon, to be included in 
each annual budget, has nearly trebled in the same period. 
The population has increased but 40 per cent. 

Dante. O Master, must not such a thoughtless, fatu- 
ous course bring to pass in time tremendous and tumultu- 
ous disaster? 

Virgil. It must, indeed, if continued. Even a great 
and strenuous nation like America, subjected too long to 
burden-bearing taxes, becomes anaemic and ready to suc- 
cumb to a thousand ills. 

Dante. No wonder we find this danger-breeding para- 
site in this place of torment! 

Virgil. There are multitudes of danger - breeding 
Americans in infernos farther away. 

Dante. O Master, I beseech thee, hasten not away 
from this inferno. There is one more belonging to this 
small group concerning whom I am very curious. Was he, 
also, a mere trifler — one who had been everywhere, seen 
everything and bought everything, but who did nothing 
worth while? (They walk to the tomb of '^A Certain 
Good Fellow" and gaze sadly upon him as, in semi-upright 
position, he moans in anguish and tosses his arms wildly 
about.) 

Virgil. You observe that this man's breast is adorned 
by three fine medals. He was permitted to wear them 
here because by nature he was such a good fellow. He 
had, indeed, a big, human heart, 

Dante. What occasioned the fall of this good fellow? 
What brought him to this fiery abode? 

Virgil. The same cause which has brought to pass 
the fall of many a good fellow — woman. Indeed, this 
good fellow was doubly unfortunate, since two women 
linked hands to compass his fall. First, his mother pre- 



46 A Dose of Hell Act III 

pared the way. She was a sickly saint, as fit to mold a 
big man of affairs as a cloistered nun. Next he tried to 
please his sweetheart, a devourer of fiction light as air, 
with heroes common sense has long since doomed to the 
scrap-heap. 'Tis a pity, in this instance, for nature had 
confided to this good fellow a big spark of divinity, big 
financial brains, a big human heart, and housed them in 
a fit earthly home; that is, a splendid body. 

Dante. I thought Uncle Sam permitted his woman- 
kind free access to his glorious, sky-reaching Tree of 
Knowledge, and that American women had become the 
advance guard of American ideals. 

Virgil (sighing and wiping his eyes). True! True! 
But every nation has its belated contingent, likewise, 
composed of women not infrequently so beautiful and 
hypnotic that men like Jack would pawn their very souls 
to please them. Samson was of this kind. This good 
fellow was another. Hence the reason we find him on 
this blazing scrap-heap. 

Jack. Father Abraham, have mercy on me and send 
Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water 
and cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame. 
(So terrorising did this quotation from the Bible approve 
itself — more particularly because of the poignancy with 
which it was uttered — that the effect was magical. The 
doctors were sorely tempted to break and run. But, 
quickly recalling the fact that they were there to give 
these vivants the fright of their lives, when they should 
awaken, half-dazed, they majestically continued playing 
the classic roles of Dante and Virgil.) 

Paul (opening his eyes in torment). I'll be d d if 

this isn't hell. (Groans and closes his eyes.) 

Charles (suddenly sitting up). In hell! By George! 
Just my darned luck ! 

Horace. Whew ! Hell's a sure enough hot place 1 I 
wonder if they won't let up on the heat when they hear 



Act III A Dose of Hell 47 

me recite **Hymn to New York"? As soon as the poets 
Dante and Virgil come this way I will beg them to speak 
a good word for me. 

(Even Lucy, in a room across the hall, was aroused 
from her lethargic state and insisted on going to Jack 
without delay. Her mother yielded to her wishes, accom- 
panying her thither with a glass of water.) 

Lucy {impetuously throwing her arms around Jack's 
neck and kissing him repeatedly). O, Jack ! I am so glad 
you are alive ! 

Jack. So am I, but I am in hell, all right. 

Lucy (quickly glancing around). So this is hell? Why, 
it is a very romantic-looking place, and you have three 
splendid medals on your breast. Evidently you have been 
a glorious hero in hell. (Kisses the medals.) Oh, Jack, 
I did not realize how much I loved you until I thought 
you were dead ! My heart is all yours, (Here Lucy takes 
the glass of water from her mother, who discreetly van- 
ishes.) 

Jack (after disposing of the water at one gulp, shouts). 
Glory ! Hallelujah ! God be praised ! Hell has become 
heaven! (Gazes ecstatically at Lucy. She, with equal 
ardor, returns his glance, then impetuously hugs and kisses 
him again.) 

CURTAIN 



THE CASE FOR EQUALITY 

Thomas Jefferson Versus Bernard Shaw 

An American philosopher has asserted that life is a 
series of experiments and would not be worth living were 
it otherwise. I think it would be truer to say that life is 
a series of progressive experiments and would not be 
worth living were it otherwise. Who or what people 
would care to try the same experiments, over and over, 
ad infinitum? Therefore with joy we of to-day recog- 
nize the fact that life is but another word for sleepless, 
ceaseless Evolution. 

The great experiments of the past have usually been 
inaugurated, either by great dreamers or great thinkers; 
and made practicable by great doers. 

Thomas Jefferson and his group of thinkers set going 
a huge and unprecedented experiment, by announcing that 
"all men are created equal, with unalienable God-given 
rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." 

And now comes the famous Italian educator, Dr. Maria 
Montessori, with the plea that more liberty be given the 
child to follow its own trend; the teacher merely acting 
as scientific adviser. This because the child makes most 
progress by "doing and discovering." Indeed this seems 
to be the Divine Plan. Surely man has been at liberty to 
wreck the world pretty much as he pleased. Possibly one 
of these days he may learn how to run it without the 
shedding of seas of blood. 

What has been the result, thus far, of the working out 
of the Jeffersonian experiment? Glance backward a 
moment. 

4S 



The Case for Equality 49 

Already well nigh one hundred millions of people have 
grouped themselves beneath the folds of Old Glory. Im- 
migrants are still doing so at a rate ranging from half a 
million to a million and more each year. Educational and 
commercial expansion has been no less amazing. Our 
free public school system has planted the seeds for self- 
government in the inquisitive minds and passionate hearts 
of countless multitudes of bashful boys and bright-eyed 
girls. Dr. Montessori, at the Plaza recently, declared 
that in America she had found conditions nearer her ideals 
than in any other part of the world. King Alfonso of 
Spain has expressed the hope that there might be brought 
about for his people a development of education such as 
there is in the United States. But it has remained for 
China to give signal proof that she is well pleased with 
our educational methods. News has just been received 
that the government of the great Shansi province has 
offered to furnish and equip schoolhouses and guarantee 
a yearly sum — if only the American Board of Missions 
will take charge of them. As everybody knows — our 
country is fairly starred with concentrated reservoirs of 
knowledge, ycleped libraries. Churches, colleges, univer- 
sities, museums, theatres there are, galore. Too numerous 
for mention are other means calculated to cause the em- 
bedded Divine Spark to evolute strenuously, dramatically, 
picturesquely, puritanically, scientifically, financially, mu- 
sically and artistically. While to cap all are our won- 
derful newspapers and magnificent magazines ! 

As regards the acquisition of wealth Uncle Sam has 
approved himself a veritable, latter-day miracle-worker; 
one laborer with a machine producing as much product 
as a whole village of artisans in the Old World. Conse- 
quently no one need be surprised to learn that the wealth 
of the United States is now estimated to be not less than 
one hundred and twenty-five billions of dollars. All first- 
class money. Very different in this respect from our Con- 



^0 The Case for Equality 

tinental money, which depreciated in value until an officer's 
pay was not sufficient to clothe him. "Bare-footed offi-' 
cers, as well as soldiers, left upon the snow their tracks 
in blood." 

Yes, even as early as 1777 the Jeffersonian experiment 
was working gloriously. When base plotters tried to 
bribe General Reed to use his influence with Washington, 
he replied: "I am not worth purchasing but such as I 
am the King of England is not rich enough to buy me." 
Indeed I think it must be admitted that — almost up to 
date — the Jeffersonian kind of equality with its great in- 
fusion of liberty has worked wonderfully well. 

And now comes G. Bernard Shaw — who himself "can 
write and talk the birds off the bushes" — with what he 
believes to be the only true kind of human equality. Some- 
how I cannot help thinking it looks suspiciously like the 
communism of primitive times, when people were in the 
hunting and pastoral stages of civilization. Money not 
having been invented at this early date it was, therefore, 
impossible to apportion equality of income in coin, a la 
Bernard Shaw. When people began to settle down to an 
agricultural life then began private ownership in land. 
Yet, notwithstanding, from primitive times up to date 
communism has been tried, sporadically, but never suc- 
cessfully. Since Socialism, though colored with com- 
munistic conceptions, is declared to be different and not 
to be confounded with the oft-tried communism, still as 
it has not been tried it is impossible to predict whether 
the proposed Collective Commonwealth could even be set 
going or not. True, the platforms definitely state that 
the means of production must be owned, operated and 
controlled by the people in common. However, it must 
be admitted that international Socialism is gaining ground 
in the United States and that it has given international 
Capitalism and international Roman Catholicism more 
than one bad quarter of an hour. 



The Case for Equality 51 

When Mr. Hobson asserted that the Labor Party was 
revolting against Bernard Shaw's doctrine of human 
equality, that fascinating, dialogue-playwright remarked: 
"They are not revolting against it, because it has never 
been preached to them. It is not a part of their doctrine. 
But it is quite true that labor is now getting more and 
more into political power and the important fact you have 
to face is that labor men are not gentlemen ; that is to say 
that they have been trained up for generations in the idea 
and habit of each man selling himself for as much as he 
can get. The consequence is they are thoroughly against 
this idea of equal distribution. Every man of them thinks 
he should have more than somebody else." 

The kind of equality Mr. Shaw has in mind he defines 
as follows: ''When I speak of The Case for Equality I 
mean human equality, and that, of course, can only mean 
one thing: it means equality of income. It means that if 
one person is to have a half crown the other is to have 
two and sixpence. It means that precisely." 

When asked by Mr. Richard Whiting — who found this 
a hard saying — "Is the equality of income, the equality 
that Mr. Shaw speaks of, to be a rude equality in pounds, 
shillings and pence? I use this language not because I 
object to the thing itself, but because I want to know 
what kind of equality it is. Does it mean that all the 
earnings of the community as a whole are to be pooled, 
and that out of these earnings every one would receive 
a certain sum, a definite sum, or what does it mean ?" A 
"Voice" replied "That is the idea." Whereupon Mr. 
Whiting said, "I am sorry to hear it. A much finer idea, 
I think, is that of old Proudhon — 'from every one accord- 
ing to his powers, and to every one according to his 
needs.^ " 

Where circumstances are such as to limit a man to a 
fixed pittance, with no hope of a raise, one can hardly 
blame him for thinking life is not worth living on Mother 



52 The Case for Equality 

Earth. The work of the Indian coolies in South Africa 
is said to be very hard, yet they receive but the small sum 
of seventy-five cents or a dollar per week. For this reason 
suicides are fourteen times more numerous than in India. 
Truly does "The American" observe: "Dire poverty is 
such a cringing, such a pitiful thing. It slays a man's 
manhood. It drives from him his self-respect. It robs 
him oftentimes of ambition. It snuffs out every spark 
of hope, every ray of sunshine. It makes of him not a 
man, but something less than a 'manikin.' " 

A man in the United States is often willing to work for 
a small sum in the present because he expects to be able 
to corral a heap of dazzling dollars in the near future. 
The chorus girl works hard and hopefully since, in the 
land of Jefferson and Paine, she is free to choose a hus- 
band from the millionaire class. 

Adventure, as every one is aware, is a prime necessity 
to the expanding soul. Now, pray tell me, how much of 
this prime necessity a man can hope to secure from a 
small definite sum — say, two and sixpence? Prof. Henri 
Bergson thinks that the human intellect is more at home 
with tangible objects than it is with emotions and ideals. 
If this is the case just how much at home would the 
American intellect be with a fixed wage — of two and six- 
pence? "It is through experimentation with tangible 
objects that the intellect arrives at the spiritual values 
underlying them," he furthermore asserts. Here the query 
arises, What amount of spiritual value w^ould a Jeffer- 
sonian American find monkeying with — two and sixpence ? 
It is quite possible that the semi-starving hordes of India 
and China would welcome the Bernard Shaw brand of 
human equality. I cannot, however, imagine liberty- 
loving Uncle Sam seriously experimenting with a kind of 
equality so inherently un-American. But should he be 
beguiled into swapping Americanism for International 
Socialism I fear it would not be long before our Ship of 



The Case for Equality 53 

State would be "drifting on an aimless sea with a lifeless 
crew." 

But there is no doubt about the fact that man-made 
civilizations, even the best of them, sooner or later round 
up into a many sided sort of monopoly, which, presently, 
breeds corruption and catastrophes. The present unrest 
would seem to indicate that our country is now ripe for 
a new and still more progressive experiment, viz., the 
practical recognition of the fact that the sexes are soli- 
daire. And hence it follows as the day the night that 
the Jeffersonian idea should be expanded so as to include 
the women. 

Ah, how the heart of Mother Earth will thrill with 
hope, when it is heralded far and near, that Uncle Sam 
has decided that not only are "all men created equal, 
with God-given rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of 
happiness," but^ likewise, all women! 



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